Sheogorath's Super Special Awesome Space Adventure!
by INTIMIDATOR13
Summary: What if the world of the Elder Scrolls series is beyond the Milky Way galaxy, but in the same universe as the Mass Effect series? Could Shepard's final choices on the Crucible be much less disappointing as a result? Could everyone's favorite mad god save the day from Bioware's plot derp? Coming Soon: Sheogorath visits more game universes, including Dragon Age!
1. Chapter 1-SPAAAAACE(ME3)

**The following is a story about "my" Shepard, a CIA operative frozen in the near future in case of a nuclear war with China. After humanity realized that greater threats lay beyond Earth itself, the Alliance unfroze him and he fought for all of Earth's people. This story, originally intended as a stand alone tale to replace Mass Effect's lackluster ending(Shame on you Bioware), has spawned a brilliant idea for an entire series of crossovers, starring Shepard's new friend. Enjoy.  
**

China. The Russians. The Geth. Saren. The Genophage. All of Shepards efforts came down to this one moment. What choice could he be expected to make, a man from the 21st century whose very existence at this point in time was accidental? It used to be so simple. Kill the communists. Kill the terrorists. But now, the fate of the galaxy hinged on his decisions. Sometimes he wished he'd never let the CIA freeze him as an asset to save in case of nuclear war. But, "no use bitching" he told himself. Besides, he'd have never met his lover Tali or his best friend Garrus if he'd lived a normal life. He'd have died before 2100 and probably have never even left Earth. How dull.

Before him lay 3 paths, as laid out by the Reaper AI. Would he try to control the Reapers, like the Illusive Man before him? Did he have the willpower to use that might correctly? Would he destroy the Reapers as his friend and mentor Admiral Anderson would have, but at the cost of wiping out all synthetic life? He could save the organics, but he would lose his friend EDI and wipe out the Geth species he had saved. All that peacemaking with the Quarians for nothing.

Was fusion the only option? It would be safer than control, and no one but Shepard would have to die to end this war. It seemed like the best choice, but something still felt wrong. Normally Shepard wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice himself for the greater good. He regularly put himself in harms way, knowing each mission could be the last. But now, there was a shadow of doubt in his mind. Something seemed so different, as if his actions were not his own, as if the choice were not his.

"What's wrong?" the AI inquired. "Hurry and make your choice."

"Hang on," Shepard replied, "this is an important decision.

The relative silence of the Crucible was interrupted by the pitter patter of tiny footsteps. Shepard turned to face the direction of the noise, to see his hamster from the Normandy walking towards him.

"How did you get up here little fella?"

Shepard was shocked to hear the hamster's response in a Scottish brogue.

"I am a god of madness. I go where I please quite easily. If you 're wondering why I'm here, it's to save your sorry mortal ass."

Shepard stared at the hamster, dumbfounded at what he was seeing. The Reaper AI was also confused.

"Who are you talking to?"

The hamster let out a mighty burp, followed by a chuckle.

"You mortals and your machines. Mr. Shepard, the ghosty thing can't see me because apparently he lacks the apparatuses to perceive Daedra. Ha, some creation you are. The Dwemer built better robots squid boy!"

Shepard continued to stare, speechless. Why, why did this shit always happen to him? Was he really seeing this? He must be insane. That's it. None of this space stuff ever happened. This is a dream. He's still in a CIA freezer somewhere. He'll wake up eventually and shoot more Russians.

In the time it had taken Shepard to collect those thoughts, the hamster had disappeared and an old man with a purple puffy coat and a cane had appeared.

"Now I know what you're thinking. Really, I do. Reading mortal thoughts is a bit of a passtime of mine. You people do think of the funniest things. Anyway, you 're thinking "This can't be real, I've gone mad!". Well, you're half right. You have gone mad. You went mad a looooooooong time ago boy. That time you killed a Krogan with a broom should have helped you see that. But, this is all very real. You see my dear madman, these Reaper fellows have finally indoctrinated you. They couldn't break your will, but their schemes have finally tricked you. You were about to get killed."

"I'm….indoctrinated?"

"Well sort of. They don't really control you but they do have you right where they want you. Thankfully, you're fucking crazy! And you can't control a madman, only lead him along. That's why I'm here to help! I like you Shepard, you crazy bastard you, and I don't like it when someone tries to hurt my favorite madmen! You see, these three cakes are all lies. Did I say cake? I'm sorry, I meant choices. It's a trap. The blue light will electrocute you, the red one will explode in your face, and the green thingy is some sort of giant incinerator that smells like Irish Spring."

"Ok, let's say I believe you. So how do I defeat the Reapers? How does the Crucible work?"

"Oh you don't defeat them. This thing was a trap. The Reapers played you like a fiddle this whole time."

"So I can't kill them? We re all doomed?"

"Oh don't be so dramatic. You can't kill them, but reality is my play thing and I'm feeling generous. I'll get rid of them."

The strange man lifted his cane above his head and yelled, "WABBAJACK!" A blinding light seemed to envelop everything, and then suddenly, all was quiet. Shepard looked around and no Reapers could be seen. The battle was over.

"I teleported all of your Reapers into the sun. You can take credit for it if you like. It's not like anyone will believe you when you tell them your hamster was actually a mad god from another galaxy anyway. Well, my work here is done. You can find the stairs down back that way a bit. I'm sure your ship will come get you soon."

The old man began to walk away.

"Wait, where are you going? Who the hell are you anyway?"

"Hmm, good question. I think I'll head to that galaxy over there next. Maybe there will be more dragons. That Dovahkiin fellow killed all of the ones from where I was. Hmmmmm. Oh look, that galaxy still has dwarves! Oh my, that Oghren dwarf is crazy and perpetually drunk! What fun that will be!"

"Seriously, who are you?"

"Oh right. My name is Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness. Well, I'm off. I have plenty more insane mortals to play with. Such a vast, homicidally mad universe it is. Ta ta."

Before Shepard's eyes, the old man turned into a giant hamster with wings and flew off into the void of space. Shepard shrugged his shoulders and limped towards the stairs. Nothing made sense anymore, and maybe that was ok.

**Expect new chapters in the "Sheogorath's Super Special Awesome Space Vacation" soon!**


	2. Chapter 2-Ferelden

**Hey everyone, it's your favorite demon-slaying space Viking, back with another tale of adventure and madness(mostly madness). Please enjoy the continuing adventures of Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness, as he travels through time and space to play with some of fiction's most memorable characters. The following is another attempt to fix a Bioware plot derp(Shame on you again Bioware), specifically why the hell my Grey Warden was alive in Dragon Age: Awakening, even though he sacrificed himself at the end of Dragon Age Origins. Enjoy.**

"No! Morrigan, this isn't right! We can't do this weird ritual. I will not sire some sort of strange demon child. Listen to yourself. This is crazy." The Warden was resolute. Morrigan's idea had been rejected. The ritual would not be performed, and Morrigan would not give birth to a child with the soul of an Old God. This meant that her love, the future Hero of Ferelden, would likely be the one to sacrifice himself to stop the Blight. In her rage, Morrigan stormed out of the castle into the night, leaving this idiot to his fate.

Or so everyone thought. The morning after leaving, Morrigan felt a pang of guilt. She couldn't expect the Warden, this paragon of truth and justice, to commit to an act with so many potential consequences just to save his own skin. She should have supported his decision, even if being a goody-two shoes was finally going to get him killed. Morrigan wanted to join her love in battle once more, but she knew it was too late to catch up to the armies of Redcliffe. They were probably halfway to Denerim by now!

The swamp witch sighed, realizing that she had made a terrible mistake, one that she could not fix. She would never see the one man that she had ever loved ever again. Then she slapped herself for being so emotional and tried to think about the situation logically. A mage always has options. She was incredibly gifted in the magic arts; surely she could do something. Then it hit her. Flemeth's Grimoire was full of powerful secrets. Perhaps there was another way to help fight the blight, even from her camp on hill near the border with Orlais. Morrigan flipped through the wicked book frantically, searching for her manner of atonement. Something caught her eye. It was an incantation to summon an incredibly powerful being, one that existed outside the fade. This 'thing' was not a malevolent demon or a benevolent spirit per se, but something else entirely. The book suggested that this being would be willing to help any who summoned it, for a price. As incredibly sketchy as this whole arrangement appeared, and as ridiculously dangerous as summoning a being from another dimension seemed, Morrigan decided it would be worth the risk to try and help her former lover. Morrigan began to read the strange incantation.

"By the power of cheese wheels and cabbage heads, I summon ye, oh great joker of fate, oh mighty troll of oblivion, Sheogorath! Wabbajack!"

For a moment, all was quiet. Nothing seemed to be happening. Morrigan realized how silly her "spell" had sounded. She was beginning to think this particular page had been drunkenly scribbled in by her "mother" during one of her wilder nights years ago. Then, the silence was interrupted. The sound of an explosion rang out, and a great meteor came hurtling down from the clouds. As the witch looked on in amazement, all she could hear was what sounded like a faint scream and a number of filthy words that would make even a swamp witch blush. The object crashed down less than a mile away, in an open field. Morrigan headed to the impact site, a new hope in her heart. Perhaps this was part of the spell and her figurative prayers had been answered. Even if it wasn't anything magical, star metal was incredibly valuable, so she could at least walk away from this incident a little richer.

As she neared the crater, Morrigan could smell a wretched stink, almost like burning hamster dung. Peering over the side of the crater, she saw a on old man in a purple coat with a cane at his side, his face firmly planted in the dirt, his pants clearly soiled. Reaching for his cane, the old man slowly rose to his feet, his beard caked with sod. Dusting himself off, he turned to face Morrigan.

"My my, Flemeth, you're looking young again. Why did you summon me here? I was going to go mess with the dwarves again. Placing their items on top of tall things is always good for a chuckle. So let me guess, you called because want another ride on my Wabbajack? Well, with a body like that, I'm happy to oblige. The old one was getting a little…old. Wrinkly. Dry. But now, ha, I could act like a fertility god instead of a mad one."

The old man licked his lips suggestively and made rude gestures with his cane. Morrigan face-palmed. This wasn't a solution to her problems. This was Flemeth's booty call.

"I'm not Flemeth. I called you here because I thought you could help me."

"Oh I'll help you alright…"

"Enough, you filthy old man!"

"Ooh, feisty! I like it!"

"Please shut up. The Grimoire said you would perform a service for me if I performed one for you. Before you ask, no, I will not lie with you."

"Darn, I was looking forward to enjoying those sweet rolls. Ok lass, I'll humor you. Tell me what you want and I'll tell you what it's worth. "

Morrigan smiled ever so slightly.

"I would like for you to keep my…boyfriend…alive even after killing the arch demon. Can you do that? I will retrieve anything in Ferelden for this deal, but you must saave him now."

"Child's play my dear. Ok, that particular request is worth…hmm carry the five…a dragon egg and a cookie. No wait, two cookies! They have to be homemade cookies, fresh from the oven!"

Morrigan face palmed again. This old man could have anything in Ferelden, and he wanted cookies.

"You have a deal, you strange, foolish man."

The old man smiled and raised his staff. There was a flash of light, and then an oven appeared.

"Alright, your boyfriend has my blessing. He'll live. Now get to baking! I want my cookies now!"

Morrigan fulfilled her end of the bargain, making delicious chocolate chip cookies for the mad god. Within a week, she had retrieved the dragon's egg as well. She refused to hand it over, however, until she knew that her lover was safe. The mad god, with no way to prove he had actually done anything, shrugged his shoulders and took a nap. Finally, news reached Morrigan's ears from a passing traveler that the Warden had defeated the Archdemon and lived. Elated, she relinquished the egg.

"It's about time," the groggy Daedra said, "I was worried the damn thing would hatch. Then how would I make breakfeast? Oh well, our business here is concluded. By the way, while reading your puny mortal thoughts, I discovered that you are a shape shifter. Well, can you take this form?"

Before Morrigan's eyes, the crazy old man turned into a giant winged hamster and took to the skies for an unknown destination. As she stared, mouth agape, the hamster looked back one last time and winked.

"Call me again if you ever get in the mood for a real man! Your mother loved ole Wabbajack!"

The giant, over sexualized hamster god disappeared into the sunset, leaving Morrigan with a new distaste for rodents. Morrigan returned to her camp, happy to know that her love had survived, and determined to rid the universe of anything remotely resembling a hamster.

The End

**Where will Sheogorath head next? Maybe the wild world of Pandora? Stay tuned for more of Sheogorath's Super Special Awesome Space Adventure!**


	3. Chapter 3-Super Late Christmas Special!

**Christmas time has come on Pandora. Even on this wild planet, the customary exchange of gifts and decorating of trees so common on Earth is a treasured tradition. In Earth society, the religious aspect of this holiday is often ignored in favor of the joys of capitalism. The religious connotations are ignored on Pandora for an entirely different reason, being that anyone who has seen any of the terrifying monstrosities that Pandorans call "wildlife" would certainly question the existence of a benevolent god. While religion is still looked upon skeptically, by the end of this year's Christmas, no one on Pandora will ever be able to deny the existence of Santa Claus ever again.**

The sun rose on another Pandoran morning, as Scooter's pre-recorded messages rang out from the speakers of one of his famous "Catch-A-Ride" machines. Awoken by the redneck gibberish, the famous Vault Hunter, Mordecai, groggily yawned. Confused, the hung-over sniper took a look around to get his bearings. He was sitting in the driver's seat of a blood-red painted runner, parked at a Catch-A-Ride somewhere in the middle of the endless desert known as the Dust . Upon further inspection, the Vault Hunter realized that it was actual blood, probably from some anonymous bandits he had run over in yet another drunken rage.

Mordecai had been drunk a lot these past few months, more than usual even. He had fallen into a particularly dark depression after the death of his best friend, the most homicidal bird in recorded history, Bloodwing. Things had gotten even worse when his former traveling companion, Roland, had been killed as well. Though Pandora's newest team of Vault Hunters had taken down the despicable Handsome Jack and avenged his old friends, Mordecai's bloodlust had not been sated. Seeing that bird die was the most painful thing that he had ever experienced, and it had unleashed a darker side of his psyche. Instead of joining in the celebration at Sanctuary after the final battle, Mordecai declared that his personal war was just starting. With a sniper rifle, machete, and a bottle of whiskey at his side, Mordecai had driven off into the night, vowing to "cleanse" Pandora of every employee, merc, bandit, and robot on Hyperion's payroll.

Mordecai had been horrifyingly successful in his quest for vengeance, cutting a bloody swath across the planet. With Handsome Jack dead, the Hyperion corporation had abandoned the planet, leaving its employees to fend for themselves. This played into the former Vault Hunter's plans quite nicely. With no way to get off-world, they were sitting ducks. Mordecai found them all, descending in an unstoppable fury upon their strongholds, oftentimes having downed a full bottle of whiskey just minutes before his assault. Oddly enough, he seemed to shoot better when drunk, picking off targets from ridiculous distances before closing with his machete, shrugging off bullets in his intoxicated rage. He would kill indiscriminately, reveling in the shrieks of pain and pleas for mercy. He showed none. Even a lowly secretary would pay dearly for working for Hyperion. In Mordecai's broken mind, everyone from Hyperion had Jack's face, a face he would never tire of dismembering. After a few months of his psychotic manhunt, Hyperion was nothing but a memory on Pandora.

With his vengeance completed, Mordecai still felt empty. No amount of killing would bring Bloodwing back. With nothing to live for, he had just kept wandering, drinking heavily, occasionally wiping out a bandit clan in an intoxicated frenzy, and just hoping something could finally kill him and put him out of his misery. This had brought him to the Dust, where he now sat in a blood-stained runner. Cranking up the vehicle, he drove further into the endless desert, continuing his aimless journey. After a few hours of driving, he came upon a solitary mountain in the great ocean of sand. As the mountain came closer into view, the hung-over maniac had a thought. Today was the day he would finally put an end to this hellish life of his. No longer would he wander. He had truly had enough. This mountain was the perfect place to die. He would scale its peak and jump. The mountain was tall, certainly tall enough to kill himself with, but not so tall that he would die climbing it No one would ever find his body out here in the Dust. His friends wouldn't have to deal with the sorrow of losing him. He would just vanish, a footnote in the annals of Pandora's history.

A few hours of climbing later, Mordecai reached the summit of this mountain. Despite its elevation, the peak of this mountain was devoid of snow, an effect of the unforgiving heat of the Dust. Walking to the edge, he gathered his resolve. This was it. He would leave the world behind, maybe even get to be with Bloodwing again at last. The wind swirled about him, and he felt strangely at peace. He flashed back to all the good times he had had with that bird, killing bandits, going on adventures, treasure hunting, and otherwise having a blast together. For years, he and Bloodwing were inseparable, traveling together, fighting together, even sharing meals, much to the chagrin of his human companions. Bloodwing had cost him a few girlfriends to be sure, but Mordecai always maintained that he loved her more than he could any woman. Tears running down his face, Mordecai took that final step off of the cliff.

"I love you Blood!"

Mordecai fell for a few seconds, air rushing by his face, until finally, his world went black. When Mordecai came to again, he was in a small cave, with a single Christmas tree illuminating the darkness. Beneath the tree was a single wrapped present.

"Its for you, my dear psychopath," rang out a Scottish voice from somewhere in the darkness.

"What? Who are you? Where are you? Where am I?" Mordecai replied.

"You can call me Santa Claus. Where am I? Turn around you idiot! Don't you see the fireplace? I didn't think you were this crazy!"

Mordecai turned, and sure enough, there was his mysterious new acquaintance, a man of average height in a dime-store Santa suit. There he sat in a lazy-boy chair, roasting chestnuts on an open fire. To his left lay a great big bag and a mysterious purple staff, adorned with a carving of several heads at the top. The man grabbed this staff and placed a nut in one of the open mouths, which slammed down upon the food after his fingers were out of the day.

"Wabbajack is such a convenient nut-cracker. Anyway, on to your last question."

The strange man grabbed the cracked nuts and began to chew.

"You're in a cave, a few miles off from Sanctuary. Your car's outside. Now you're probably wondering why you're not dead. Well Mr. Grumpy Gills, I don't like it when people try to kill themselves, especially crazy people. Life is a precious gift, especially for you frail little mortals. What's even more ridiculous is that you, a man thoroughly blessed with the gifts of madness, would choose to throw that all away. I do understand your troubles though, and I thought that I'd give you a little present. I know nothing can ever replace your little sweet roll, but I hope it helps. Go open it. Go on little mortal, open it. Open it! I'm incredibly impatient! Open it before I get bored! You wouldn't like me when I'm bored."

"Okay okay, I'll have a look."

Mordecai approached the tree and grabbed his gift, an oval shaped object about the size of a small spiderant. Upon unwrapping the item, he stared, dumbfounded. In his hands lay a gigantic egg, bigger than that of any bird he had ever seen. He turned to question "Santa" about this present, but the old man was gone. Suddenly, a jingling noise came from outside. Mordecai rushed to the entrance of the cave, but stopped to dodge a stampede of giant winged hamsters dragging a sleigh. Gathering speed along the ground, the hamster sled took off into the night sky, old man in tow laughing hysterically.

"Take good care of your new dragon! And for Talos's sake man, take a shower. You smell like ale and troll piss. Merry Christmas you drunk bastard!"

The old man's sleigh flew higher and higher until it was completely out of sight. Mordecai looked back to his new egg and smiled for the first time in months. He fell to his knees and began to sob tears of joy.

"Thank you Bloodwing, for sending me that crazy old man. I'm naming this one after you girl. Thank you! Thank you!"

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Mordecai proceeded to his runner, egg by his side. It was time to live again.


End file.
